The Red Days
by Melface
Summary: She was irritable enough most of the time. PMS just -had- to be added into the equation . . . . It's my first attempt at a Bleach fic. If it's OOC, it's for the sake of humour. Extremely mild IchiRuki


**Bleach - Untitled**

Everything started on June 28th. A normal Wednesday, clouded over like it could rain, with the smell of damp earth in the air. It smelled like spring, more than early summer.

I jumped when my closet door slammed open. "Hey!" I yelled, yanking my pants up the last couple inches. I didn't particularly care if Rukia saw me in my boxers - they were pretty much just shorts, when you thought about it. It was out of deference to her being a girl.

"You could at least warn me, next time," I growled, getting the fly and button done up. I cast her a glare, only to step aside as she stormed past me on her way to the bathroom. I watched her go, suddenly wary. What was up with her?

"BROTHER! GET A MOVE ON, YOU'RE GONNA BE LATE!"

I looked at the clock, and rolled my eyes. "No, I'm not, Yuzu!" I shouted back. Cute kid, my little sister, if a little scatter-brained sometimes. Snagging my uniform shirt from it's hanger, I got the last button done up just as Rukia re-entered, still looking exceedingly grouchy.

"I'm going back to bed," she muttered, crawling back inside my closet and curling up on the blanket pile within. The door closed again, leaving me to stare at it in silence. Rukia _never_ went back to bed once she was up. Something was wrong.

Crossing toward the closet, I knocked carefully. "Hey - you okay?"

The door slid violently open again, this time nearly taking my fingers with it. Baleful eyes glared up at me, looking bloodshot, with hints of dark circles underneath. I flinched.

"You want something?" she snapped, her right hand curling into a fist.

"Not really . . . ." I lied, ready to bolt if she tried to kill me. "You just . . . don't seem like yourself. You okay?"

Her gaze softened a bit. "Yeah, I'm fine. You go ahead; I'll come late, but I'll be there."

I gave her my best unimpressed stare. "Are you kidding me? You look like something a Hollow chewed up and spit back out again." Her eyes narrowed, but I kept going. "All I have to do is walk down to the clinic and get you something for whatever you've got, now what is it? Flu? Vertigo?"

Rukia gave me one of those deadpan stares of hers, the kind that signified she thought I was being an idiot. "You've got two sisters, Ichigo. You're telling me you can't figure this out?"

It took a moment for me to come up with an answer for that. When I did, I felt my eyes open wider. "You mean, you're . . . ." I shifted uncomfortably and tried again. "It's your, uh . . . your 'time of the month?'"

"Congratulations, genius."

With that, she closed the door again. Taking a couple precautionary steps back, I just stood there, looking at the blank surface. It wasn't my first encounter with a hormonal female - two years ago, Tatsuki had nearly killed me in a sparring match. A week later, she apologized, using . . . _that_ as an excuse. Just this year, I'd come home to find Yuzu curled up on the couch, saying her stomach hurt. I'd left it to Karin to look after her - girls did better at this sort of thing. I, being a guy that wanted to remain alive, tended to hide in my room a lot more when the so-called 'red days' arrived for either one of my sisters.

"Okay . . ." I said slowly, "if that's your problem, you want me to get you something for it? Yuzu has -"

"I'll be fine," was the snapped reply. "Get going, already!"

I high-tailed it for the door.

Guys have hormones too, not just girls. The thing is, our hormones work differently, prompting us to do stupid stuff, to think less with our heads and more with our . . . you know.

The stupid stuff isn't always sex-related, though. It occasionally just messes with our heads in general and we do things like, say . . . passing notes in class.

Hence why a folded up piece of paper labelled 'Asano - Kurosaki' had just been tossed onto my desk.

Grudgingly opening it - and making a silent promise to kill Keigo if he was asking to copy my homework - I skimmed the lines inside. _'Hey man, where's Kuchiki-san? She sick or something?'_

Shaking my head, I quickly scribbled _'How should I know?'_ and sent it back. Stupid Keigo - I was trying to actually concentrate on this lesson, and then he had to go and distract me with crap like that . . . .

The paper landed back on my desk. Forcing patience, I opened it again. _'Don't give me that. Come on, you gotta know where she is, you two are practically attached at the hip.'_

I cursed inwardly. I'd been doing my level best to present a 'just friends' front while the two of us were at school. Then again, teenagers with dirty minds often turned innocent relationships into something more sensational. I turned around in my seat, looking directly at Keigo, two seats back. As he watched, I slowly, methodically tore up the note. He went right back to his work after that.

Lunchtime came and went, with no sign of Rukia showing up. Walking back to class, I was really starting to worry. The level-headed, former shinigami living in my closet was one of the more resilient females I'd known in my lifetime. Was the Monthly Nightmare really _that_ horrible that it could even bring down iron-willed Kuchiki Rukia?

Entering the classroom, I automatically looked to her desk - and there she was, nose in a book, as always. I glanced at the guys - Keigo and Mizuiro were talking about plans for the weekend, and Chad seemed lost in thought over something. I was unobserved for the moment.

"What took you so long?" I hissed, planting both hands on the edge of the desk, looming over Rukia even more so than I normally did. Hey, it's not _my_ fault she's freakishly short.

She looked up at me, blinking slowly. "Excuse me?" The look of innocence on her face was enough to make me grit my teeth in annoyance. "I don't know what you're talking about Kurosaki-kun."

I forced myself to relax. "I've been fielding questions all day as to where you've been - you wait, any second now, people are going to -"

"KUCHIKI-SAAAAAAAAAN!"

We both looked up as Keigo came flying up the aisle. You could practically see the little hearts in his eyes as he dropped to one knee beside Rukia. "You're here at last! You have no idea how much I was worried!"

Resisting the urge to cuff him on the head was a very hard thing to do.

In that gracious, don't-I-look-like-a-normal-kid way of hers, Rukia smiled down at him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm afraid my alarm clock didn't go off when it was supposed to, so I ended up oversleeping."

"All right, everyone, in your seats, please," the sensei said, sweeping into the room, thankfully saving Rukia from more of Keigo's sucking up. Not that she would've taken notice anyway, knowing her.

I slid into my seat, sneaking a sideways glance at her. She was holding her book with only one hand, I noted, instead of the usual two. Her right arm was draped across her abdomen, her fingers clenching the material of her skirt.

The pain hadn't gone away, then.

_Oh, shut up,_ I mentally berated myself. _She's older than you by who knows how many years? She knows how to take care of herself._

Despite my best efforts to pay attention during the lecture, my mind kept wandering, coming up with the stupidest questions. Were shinigami . . . 'times' . . . any different from a human's? Was there more pain, more . . . stuff? Did they last longer or were they shorter?

Over the course of the next half hour, I developed the habit of pinching myself on the ear with two fingernails whenever one of these thoughts appeared - the sharp little pain was enough to jolt me back to reality. And going after my ear was a lot less noticeable than my arm.

Maybe 45 minutes into the class, after we'd been handed a short, in-class assignment, I caught a shift in movement from my right - Rukia's hand going up. The teacher came over, and had a question whispered to her. I watched from the corner of my eye, pretending to do my work. Seconds later, Rukia got up and left.

My own hand shot up in the air, of it's own accord. Before I had a chance to even wonder what I was doing, the teacher turned to me.

"Yes?"

"MayIpleasegotothebathroom?"

One curt nod later, I was out the door. If I was right about where Rukia was heading - aha! There she was.

She looked back as I got closer, irritation flashing across her face. "You're not actually going to try and follow me all the way there, are you?"

"Maybe," I hedged, falling into step beside her. She was paler than normal - could it hurt that bad? "You don't look so good - you're sure you're all right?"

She swallowed hard. "If you're going to follow me," she said, voice strained, "then you might want to pick up the pace." Her shoulders hunched a little as her breath hitched. Too late, I noticed the barely visible tint of green around her mouth. I felt my eyes widen.

" . . . . Oh man . . . ."

If, the night Rukia first appeared in my room, you'd told me that in a little over a month, I'd be holding her hair out of the way as she succumbed to pain-induced vomiting . . . I'd probably have kicked you in the face and tell you to go back to your asylum.

Truth be told, I was scared, watching her get sick like this. She was tough, more so than Tatsuki, probably more so than me. And yet the cramps affected her so badly, she was making a call on the Great White Telephone?

At last, she stood upright (more or less) and wiped her mouth with a wad of toilet paper. "Ugh . . . I'd hoped to be gone by the time this hit." Reaching down, she pressed the lever, the sound of a flushing toilet echoing around the bathroom.

I backed out of the stall, allowing her to leave as well. "Gone? As in, back to the Soul Society?"

She nodded, leaning against the counter with it's long row of sinks. "That's the thing about having to revert to a Gigai form. For females at least. The first time with this . . . condition . . . is no different than that of an average human female. However, the symptoms get progressively worse with each time."

"Wait a minute," I said, holding up a hand. "'Progressively worse?' Please tell me this isn't the first time you've had this."

She shook her head. "The second."

I'm pretty sure my eyes bugged halfway out of their sockets. "The _second?!_"

Something flashed in her eyes - if I had to guess, I'd say 'murderous intent.' Whatever it was, I shut my mouth.

"Are you going to repeat everything I say to you?" I shook my head mutely. "Good. Then we should go back before the sensei becomes suspicious." She brushed past me on her way to the door.

"Are you sure?" I asked, following. "You're not going to need to leave again?" I was watching her more carefully, now that I knew the full story.

"I'll be fine," she answered tersely. Her left hand reached out, touching the lockers to that side - she was holding herself up. I reached out and caught her by the shoulder, stopping her.

"Liar."

She tried to shrug me off, but it didn't work; I had her blocked off and backed up against the metal.

"Ichigo -"

"No. Way." I said, as firmly as I could. "Come on, I'm going to take you home."

She pushed at my arm - the one that stood between her and going back to the classroom. "You don't understand, you idiot," she muttered. "If I can't get through the rest of the day, then -"

"It'll just mean you killed yourself sooner," I interrupted, catching her wrist. "Your'e trying to blend in here, right? Well, when _normal_ girls have a problem like this, they go home." I turned her to face me, looking her in the eye to make sure my point was getting through. "Got it?"

Her normally alert eyes were beginning to look glazed over. Another bad sign. "You know . . . I'm beginning to think you're right . . . ."

"Crap . . . . Rukia, don't even think about -"

Her eyes rolled up and closed, as the rest of her body went limp and fell against me. I caught her, looking around for any sign of help - no one in sight. Scowling to myself, I turned, hoisted Rukia onto my back and started for the school's main entrance.

Pushing through the doors of the clinic, an unconscious Rukia still on my back, I headed for my father's office. "Dad? Hey, Dad! Where are you?"

He came bolting out of a side room, eyes wide. "Ichigo's home already? What's wrong?! What's wrong?!" Trying to skid to a stop in front of me, he instead slid right past.

"It's not me that has a problem!" I yelled, giving him my best you-are-an-embarrassment glare. "Is the examination room empty?"

Dad waved me toward the appropriate door. "Yes, yes. Business is slow today."

I got Rukia situated on the examination table, stepping back to let Dad have a look. He lifted one of her eyelids, shining a light into the pupil. I was too far away to see if it dilated or not.

"Since you're the one who brought her, I'm assuming you know why she's like this?" he asked, checking her pulse. Good, he was being serious for once.

I stuck both hands my pockets. "Yeah. She's been having, um . . . lady problems. From what she told me, it was hurting really bad." I shifted uncomfortably. "Is that, uh . . . normal or something?"

That stupid grin appeared on Dad's face again. "Ohohoho! What's this?" He was around the table in a flash, a good chunk of my cheek being pinched in that you're-too-cute gesture old ladies love. "You've gone and found a girlfriend! At last!"

I shoved him away. "Knock it off, will you? It's a simple question!"

"Spoilsport . . . ." Dad sighed, folding his arms. "Pain is normal, from the cramps, but it's unusual for the woman to pass out from it. I've never known it to happen, but . . . ." he shrugged. "If her pain tolerance is low enough, I suppose it's plausible."

Leaning against the examination table, I nodded. "Right. Have you got anything to take the edge off?"

"Of course I do!" he huffed, offended. "Wait here." White coat billowing behind him, he left the room in a rush.

"Interesting man, your father."

I whirled, to find Rukia lying quite still, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. "How long have you been listening in?!" I demanded. "How much of that did you hear?"

A tiny smirk tugged at one side of her mouth. "Oh, I heard enough. I notice that you didn't say 'she's not my girlfriend.'" Her eyes shifted to me, deviousness playing behind them. "I wonder what that means, exactly."

Backing off a step or two, I fought to keep my face from flushing. "I didn't deny it because I was too busy trying to keep him on topic!" I glanced toward the door, hoping Dad wouldn't burst in. "You must be feeling better, to be talking like that."

"Not really. But it serves as a distraction." Her gaze returned to the ceiling. "If he hadn't shone that light right into my eye, I probably would have stayed out for another hour or so."

"Never fear, your saviour's here!" Dad leapt through the door, striking a heroic (or so he thought) pose as he landed, a pill bottle held in his outstretched hand. Helping Rukia to sit up, he bowed deeply, offering it to her.

"Your relief from the pain that plagues you, m'lady," he said, grinning in what he probably fancied a roguish manner. I watched, wearing my best 'I-can't-believe-I'm-related-to-you' face.

Rukia giggled, acting the part of an innocent schoolgirl. "Thanks, Kurosaki-san!" She turned to look at me, her eyes wide and her smile beaming grateful admiration. "And you too, Kurosaki-kun. You're such a nice guy!"

"Don't mention it," I muttered, playing along.

"Make sure you only take one or two of those pills a day," Dad said, not to be forgotten in the background. "They're quite strong - one lasts for about eight hours."

Turning to look at him, Rukia's expression changed to one of surprise. "Gosh, really? That long?" That look, coming from her, was about as normal as a baboon at a bus stop. The sickening sweetness alone . . . .

Oh man, I was gonna hurl . . . .

Late that night, I lay in bed, the only light coming from my bedside lamp - just enough that I could see the words on the pages of my book. I wasn't really concentrating, though - I was listening with half an ear to the sounds of the street outside, playing the old game of 'guess that sound.'

The door opened and closed Rukia entered, coming back from a trip to the bathroom. Wearing my sister's pajamas - which she'd stolen just a few weeks previously - she headed toward my closet, stretching. "Good night, Ichigo."

"You seem like you're feeling better," I remarked, tossing the book onto my nightstand.

She paused at the door, looking back at me. "Yeah - the painkillers your father gave me are working remarkably well." Staring at me a moment longer, she added, "Thank you. For worrying about me."

I shrugged, folding both hands behind my head on the pillow. "So what're you going to do next time this hits? If the pain's going to keep getting worse, you're eventually going to run out of options."

She paused, one hand on the open closet door, looking back at me. "You don't think I know that?"

"I'm not saying you don't know -" I stopped myself, shaking my head. Why was I defending myself to her? "Whatever, you know I'm right."

Rukia let her hand drop from the closet door, crossing the room toward me. I briefly wondered if the hormones had gone to her head and she was now going to end my miserable existence.

No such luck. Out came the red glove, onto her hand, and then a smack to my forehead. The move was so sudden, I didn't have time to react. My shinigami self went sprawling along the bed, leaving my human body behind.

"THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

She merely smirked at me in self-satisfaction. "The Hollows won't take a night off because some Shinigami in a Gigai is feeling cruddy. Let's go - best not keep the thing waiting."

"You're not going to bleed on me, are you?" I asked sarcastically as she climbed onto my back. A finger flicked the back of my head as I climbed out my bedroom window. Right, time to drop the subject and focus on work . . . .


End file.
